


End Of The Day

by the_koala_boi



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DNDecember, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_koala_boi/pseuds/the_koala_boi
Summary: Tiberius really just wanted to have a good day, finally getting the warrior helmet he had earned through a lifetime of hard work. He hadn't expected his special day to be changed for the worst.





	End Of The Day

After a lifetime of work in the tribe, picking berries, and carting around the yurts they lived in to their new campsites each season, Tiberius Irruambo was happy to have proven himself to his herd as he had longed to be. Traditionally, centaurs were supposed to have earned their helmets already, or that would be the case in any other tribe, but not to the great warrior one he had been born into. Proper warrior helmets were decorated with jewel adorned horns resembling the many deer in the area, sharp enough to pierce the tender flesh of an enemy. So, when he finally got the news that his chief had decided he was ready to join the hunters and move on from the role of a gatherer just like his brothers had before him, nobody could stop the young foal from prancing around, almost knocking the elderly shaman of his herd over. 

"You be careful young stallion, if you break my neck you won't be eligible for the ceremony if I'm dead." The shaman spoke in the dry but still humorous tone he'd usually put on, but despite the fact he had nearly dropped a bowl of the brightest jewels the gatherers could have found for him, the centaur patted the child's head after he helped him get back up. The looks on Tiberius's face was clearly apologetic, but it quickly fell back into the seemingly unending joy that was stored in such a tiny body. 

"Yes sir, sorry sir! But you know how hard it is with the whole.. walking thing." The colt laughed nervously, patting the dirt off of the shaman's robes, only to be met with a quick smack on the head. Without another word, the elder trotted off, but Tiberius wasn't alone for more than a few moments as he his father walked up next to him. Trajan was huge, even by centaur standards, thanks to the fact he was one of the only draft horses left in the Purple Brush. It was hard to believe a tiny horse like Tiberius, who only stood up to the giant's waist, would end up as tall, but the other kids knew that fact well, neither he or his brothers would shut up about it during their lessons with the shaman. 

"Look at you! You look like a warrior except for the whole not wearing armor thing, or a helmet yet, or having a weapon, or a totem." The older centaur joked, nudging his son's shoulder, and despite his best efforts to be gentle, he still managed to nearly knock over the child. Tiberius just stared at him, pouting dramatically before suddenly jumping on him and trying to grab his father's axe, which was just dangling over his shoulder. 

"Well then let me try it! You let the twins and Julius use it, I wanna do it too!" He managed to grip onto the giant axe's handle, straining but eventually managing to take it off his dad. The man just laughed and stood back, knowing that the boy wouldn't realistically be able to do anything dangerous with it, the other herd members gathering around to hopefully see the child make a fool of himself. When Tiberius didn't immediately double over from the sheer weight, the centaurs held their breath and whispered to each other about how it must just be a fluke. They were proven right the moment he managed to lift it above his head, a second of glory before he began to sway side to side. He tried his best to stay balanced, his arms struggling to keep the weight up, he was far too focused on just holding it to notice the roots of a tree he was about to trip on, making him fall right into a patch of melons that the gatherers had just piled up for a meal. 

His father trotted up, snatching his axe out of the boy's hand, who merely sheepishly smiled up at him and waved. He was helped up, the others looked the other way and walked off to finish their work, just to spare him the shame of being stared at by the entire crowd. Trajan helped his son up, helping him back to their yurt to freshen up again, it would be an insult to the gods to show up to his own ceremony as filthy as one of the hogs the hunters would bring home. The moment he walked in, his mother Livia grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to a corner with a tub of water, clearly just a bit frustrated that he wasn't taking this as seriously as he should have been. 

"You know, the gods probably wouldn't like it if you thought of this as a game and not, say, your first ceremony in your life." She huffed, but still scrubbed the filth off of him, not like she had much of a choice unless she wanted Tiberius showing up looking like he played around in a dump. It thankfully didn't take long, and after one more earful, she let him out and dressed him in a tunic, helping him put his long hair back up as he would normally do. 

It was only noticing how quiet the yurt was that made Tiberius finally say something after he was first dragged inside. "Hey, have you seen Julius? I thought he'd be here to see me get a cool helmet just like him!" The older brother would have usually been here, trying to read whatever he had found in the woods near the barrier separating them from the outside world, which he had dragged him to numerous times, despite the fact that the adults weren't quite thrilled by it. He had always talked about how wonderfully new everything was that the elves and humans had made, as if he had not heard the same stories Tiberius had. Elves and humans slaughtering each other, along with any other species that would cross their paths if they didn't obey, but even then Julius just insisted they weren't like that anymore. 

His mother hesitated before speaking, calm and precise as if nothing was odd about the missing centaur. "He's fine, don't you worry a thing about it, but you should worry about the fact you're late for the ceremony." She pushed him out the door, gently but still clearly telling him to go into the middle of camp, where all ceremonies took place. A fire as large as Trajan roared, threatening to burn everything around it as it lashed like a wild animal. The chief was waiting impatiently in front of it, wearing his own warrior helmet of gold and iron, but the moment he saw Tiberius he relaxed, ready to start. He slung his staff off his back, the obsidian black raven standing on it was seemingly staring right at the poor boy, its ruby eye almost staring right through his soul. The shaman stood next to him, the prized helmet in his hand. 

It was large, clearly meant for the child to grow into it, but otherwise it was perfect. The antlers on the helmet were sharp as daggers, crystals of all colors were strewn about on the silver horns, blending perfectly with the hard iron base. Perhaps it was the emotional investment he had, since he spent his life waiting for this day, but the piece of armor called to him like life to water. He knew realistically, he would still be in warrior training after this day, just at a higher level than the day before. Still, the moment he got into position in front of the two most important centaurs of the entire tribe, on his knees for it to be placed on his head, he was trembling in excitement. 

The second it was placed upon his head, accompanied of course by the monologue that the chief was giving about serving his tribe, the pressure lifted from Tiberius's shoulders. He had done as much as he could for all his years to get to this day, and feeling the cool metal on his skull almost felt like it made him ten times stronger. The joy was short lived, when one of the gatherers that was out to get more food for the dinner to celebrate ran over, knocking him over as he frantically spoke. 

"W-We were grabbing more food and I stepped on something and it crunched a-and I looked down and it was Julius!" The gatherer grabbed the chief's shoulders, shaking him frantically in his fit of hysteria that made every centaur's blood run colder than the night air. The shaking in his bones changed from joy to panic and dread, a knot in his stomach building as he stood up. The herd scrambled, the panic setting in all at once for everyone as they followed the gatherer to where the body was, a while away from the campsite. 

Laying in the dirt was the familiar face Tiberius knew well, usually twisted in a smug smile as he talked about how odd the traditions of the outside world was. This time, that expression seemed miles away from the one on the corpse, replaced with one of terror, He only got a glance at his brother as the shaman shoved his way through the crowd, not caring to check for signs of life before grabbing the bear totem that wrapped around the centaur's neck. 

"We will continue the celebration next sunrise, we have more important things to do." The elder spoke it with such determination that nobody, not even the chief, would even consider disobeying his will. They quickly got a fire burning, illuminating the final resting place of the centaur. A few had gone back to their camp, grabbing enough supplies to complete the ritual they had done for centuries to deal with the death of another one of them. 

Tiberius was handed one of the many supplies needed, a whistle in the shape of a skull, used as a battle signal and one to send the soul of a dead tribe member off. The shaman wasted no time to begin, as if he wanted to get this over as fast as he could. "This evening, Julius Irruambo has fallen and will move to the next life cycle, as we all will one day. Hunters, raise your war whistles, show the moon goddess that he is here to be taken upwards to rest before joining us once more!" His speech went as fast as the situation started, but Tiberius still obediently started playing the whistle, along with the other hunters of his tribe. 

The cacophony was only played during two circumstances, the death of a fellow tribe member or it was the warning of death to the other nearby tribes. The sound that came out was a scream, loud and able to strike fear into the heart of anyone that dared to interrupt the ritual. It kept going as long as the centaurs could make it, hoping it would call the attention of the moon goddess to take him up into the heavens for a break before returning to the life cycle. When the last whistle died, the shaman snapped Julius's totem in half, revealing the inside was filled with a black dust, and he waved his hand to bring forth the family of the deceased. 

He laid the dust on them, part of the ritual to make sure nobody would forget someone who was gone, hesitating when Tiberius was next to get marked, but still putting a line of the dust on his neck. The ritual ended, and the body was burnt alongside whatever remained of the totem so he could join the stars. 

Tiberius didn't even realize he was holding his breath the entire time, not until he felt the burning of his lungs, as if the fire had managed to move inside of him now. It ended just as fast as it started, and the only thing he knew at the time was numbness, it was just a dream after all, right? But, when he reached up, his hand grazing by the spot where the dust of what once belonged to his former brother, the dread in his stomach that he had been ignoring grew. It really had happened, he just saw his brother's mangled corpse, done the ritual, and now everyone was just... talking and heading back to camp. The moment he tried talking to someone, anyone, about it, he was promptly just told that his soul was taken up and he could rest easy. Yes, they had done this before, he hadn't seen it as a problem when he was merely a young kid, but now an anxiety gnawing at him. Would he be brushed aside just as easily when he passed? As soon as his ritual was finished, was he doomed to be left alone without a second thought? But one question had nagged him the moment he heard of his brother's death: Why and who did this to a person like his brother? 

He decided he didn't want to find out, the helmet on his head as heavy as if it was pure lead now.


End file.
